Devil's Bride by Stephanie Laurens

billowing
sleeves, opened at the throat, was topped by a leather waistcoat. Despite his
less-than-conventional attire, with his dramatic coloring, he still looked
impressive—and every inch a pirate.
    His gaze traveled swiftly over her, taking in her gown
of soft lavender-grey, a color suitable for half-mourning. His expression was
set, impassive, yet she sensed his approval.
    "Your aunt and uncle have arrived." She made
the statement while he was still some yards away.
    One black brow quirked; Devil didn't pause. "Good
morning, Honoria Prudence." Smoothly collecting her hand, he placed it on
his arm and deftly turned her back toward the house. "I trust you slept
well?"
    "Perfectly, thank you." With no choice
offering, Honoria strolled briskly beside him. She suppressed an urge to glare.
"I haven't made you free of my name."
    Devil looked toward the drive. "An oversight on
your part, but I'm not one to stand on ceremony. I take it
Maman
has
my aunt in hand?"
    Her eyes on his, Honoria nodded.
    "In that case," Devil said, looking ahead,
"I'll need your help." Another crepe-draped carriage came into view,
rolling slowly toward the steps. "That will be Tolly's younger brother and
sisters."
    He glanced at Honoria; she exhaled and inclined her head.
Lengthening their strides, they reached the drive as the carriage rocked to a
halt.
    The door burst open; a boy jumped down. Eyes wide, he
looked dazedly toward the house. Then he heard their footsteps and swung their
way. Slender, quivering with tension, he faced them, his face leached of all
color, his lips pinched. Recognition flared in his tortured eyes. Honoria saw
him tense to fly to Devil, but he conquered the impulse and straightened,
swallowing manfully.
    Devil strode to the boy, dropping a hand on his
shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. "Good lad."
    He looked into the carriage, then beckoned to the
occupants. "Come."
    He lifted first one silently sobbing girl, then
another, down. Both possessed a wealth of chestnut ringlets and delicate
complexions, presently blotchy. Four huge blue eyes swam in pools of tears;
their slender figures shook with their sobs. They were, Honoria judged, about
sixteen—and twins. Without any show of consciousness or fear, they clung to
Devil, arms locking about his waist.
    One arm about each, Devil turned them to face her.
"This is Honoria Prudence—Miss Anstruther-Wetherby to you. She'll look
after you both." He met Honoria's gaze. "She knows how it feels to
lose someone you love."
    Both girls and the boy were too distressed to render
the prescribed greeting. Honoria didn't wait for it but smoothly took her cue.
Devil deftly detached himself from the girls' clinging arms; gliding forward,
she took his place. Slipping a comforting arm around each girl, she turned them
toward the house. "Come—I'll show you to your room. Your parents are
already inside."
    They allowed her to shepherd them up the steps.
Honoria was aware of their curious glances.
    On the porch, both girls paused, gulping back their
tears. Honoria cast a swift glance behind and saw Devil, his back to them, one
arm draped across the boy's slight shoulders, head bent as he spoke to the lad.
Turning back, she gathered her now shivering charges and urged them on.
    Both balked.
    "Will we have to… I mean—" One glanced up at
her.
    "Will we have to look at him?" the other
forced out. "Is his face badly damaged?"
    Honoria's heart lurched; sympathy—long-buried
empathy—welled. "You won't have to see him if you don't want to." She
spoke softly, reassuringly. "But he looks wonderfully peaceful—just like I
imagine he always did. Handsome and quietly happy."
    Both girls stared at her, hope in their eyes.
    "I was there when he died," Honoria felt
compelled to add.
    "You were?" There was surprise and a touch
of youthful skepticism in their tones.
    "Your cousin was there as well."
    "Oh." They glanced back at Devil, then both
nodded.
    "And now we'd better get you settled."
Honoria glanced